In the Russia Household
by Lady Dark Hatter
Summary: Three people live under the Russia Household. Kaliningrad, the younger brother of Russia; Moscow, Russia's young daughter; and Tiski, Russia's older daughter. Through the bordom of long winters, the three learn to entertain themselves.
1. Chapter 1

When in the Russia household; it is important to occupy yourself during the harsh winters because you would need to be well insane to go outside.

Activity one: Playing with guns, they have safety features after all!

Kaliningrad sat with his nieces, Moscow and Tiksi, around a table. Each of them had a glass of vodka in front of them. In their hands: they held silver revolvers.

"Are you sure this is okay with Daddy?" Little Moscow asked as she pushed her pale blonde bangs behind her ear and out of her pale face. Her long hair ran down her tiny figure Her deep purple eyes sparked with worry. None of them would ever cross her father.

Kaliningrad nodded his head and a cracked smile slipped onto his pale lips. His dark brown hair draped over his void-like purple eyes. "I already asked Ivan if we could, and he said yes." The man spoke with a hefty voice and his Russian accent made it sound deeper. He was tall, about 6 foot, but he wasn't all that broad. His heavy fur coat, however, did make him look a bit larger then he was.

"Wasn't it your idea to play in the first place, Moscow?" Asked Tiksi as she sipped on her drink. Her short blonde hair perfectly framed her face. Her eyes were the same shade as Moscow's. However, Tiski was a little taller than Moscow, and looked older.

Moscow looked down shyly. She nodded her head. "But I'm not sure if it's alright with Daddy, still." She pointed out. She looked up innocently at her uncle. He was the authority figure in the room.

"I will ask again if it makes you feel better." Assured Kaliningrad. He turned to look at the burgundy painted door behind him. "Brother!" He called. His voice echoed twice. The house was large, but very vacant. Only four people lived there.

"Da?" Called back a child-like voice, but still sounded too deep to belong to an actual child. To any wise person, they would run at the sound of such a voice, especially if they knew who it belonged to. These three Russians, however, did not seemed at all phased by it. They already knew it too well.

"We're still set to play Russian Roulette, da?" Kaliningrad called back flatly.

"Da." The voice called back. "Make it a quick round, though. The borche will be ready soon."

"All right, thank you." Kaliningrad called back. He looked at the two girls again. Moscow, being so small, was sitting on two phone books and STILL looking up at Kaliningrad with her large, child eyes.

"Let's play." The man grinned. The two girls nodded and picked up their guns. Kaliningrad followed suit.

"Roll it three times." They all said in sync. They spun the revolver three times.

"Pull it slowly to your head." They once again spoke together and lifted their weapons slowly to their heads. The end of each barrel pressed against their skulls.

"Pull the trigger and pray to god." Kaliningrad said with another cracked grin.

Bang.


	2. Chapter 2

When in the Russia household, it is always better to turn jobs into games or you're bound to lose all little sanity you have left.

Rock Paper Scissors 'cause it's not going to get any more fun than this.

"Uncle Kalin!" Whined little Moscow as she turned away from staring out a window to her uncle who was sitting with his back against the wall. Moscow had a gun nearly as big as her next to her little body as she stood on a chair to stare out the window. Her uncle, however, was cleaning dried blood off of his crowbar.

"Da?" He answered flatly and glanced at her quickly. He seemed preoccupied with his weapon.

"I'm bored!" Moscow whined again. "Switch with me! I don't want to be on look out anymore!" She jumped down from the chair.

Kaliningrad looked at her with a blank stare. "You know the rules for who goes the next hour of look out." He informed.

A sigh and a puff of grey smoke escaped Tiksi's lips. She threw the cigarette on the ground and stopped it out with her foot. She gave a hefty cough before looking at her uncle.

Both Moscow and Kaliningrad frowned at her. Both of them and Russia were all concerned for Tiksi's health. They didn't want to risk her getting lung cancer, but she just couldn't quit.

"Sorry..." She said quietly and coughed again. She then outstretched her arm.

Kaliningrad and Moscow casted worried looks to each other before looking back at Tiksi. The both outstretched their arms as well. They all looked at each other sharply and then down at their hands which all tightened into fists.

"Ready?" Kaliningrad asked flatly. The two girls nodded and stared at their hands with concentration.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" All three said in sync and they shook their fists once at each word. Their hands were all different. Kaliningrad's was still a fist. Moscow had her fingers spread out. Tiski had her hand in a fist, but her index and middle finger were sticking out like scissor blades.

"Damn." Kaliningrad cursed with a huff. "A draw..." He looked at the two girls again. Their hands all went back to fists again.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" They chanted and shook their fists again. This time, the outcome was different. Kaliningrad and Tiksi both had their hands out stretched like Moscow had before. Moscow, however, had her hand as Tiksi did before.

"You two now~!" The cheerful girl sang happily as she sat back and watched the two have a final game.

Kaliningrad and Tiksi both faced each other. The two both had seriously determined eyes. Neither of them wanted the next watch.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" The two yelled and shook their fists again. This time, Kaliningrad's hand was like Moscow's, with the index and middle finger sticking out, and Tiksi's was still a fist.

"Damnit..." Cursed Kaliningrad. He sighed and got up to stand by the window. He picked up the gun that was leaning against the wall. He stared blankly out the window and Tiksi happily returned to her seat against the wall next to Moscow.

"Uncle Kalin..." Moscow called his attention in a quiet, cute voice.

"Da?" Kaliningrad replied in a tired grunt. His eyes were still fixated out the window.

"Why does Daddy always put us on watch duty whenever he hears that Belarus is snooping about?" The Capital asked curiously, tilting her head.

Kaliningrad sighed and pushed his hair out of his eyes, his hand ran over his scarred cheek. "Your father is strong." He stated. "During Soviet times, he was unstoppable... But... Belarus is a strange, creepy, persistent girl your Father and I both fear to call a sister."

"Ohhh..." The two girls both cooed in sync.

"Yeah... Live a day in our shoes with Aunt Bela around and you'd fear her as well..." The man sighed and shook his head.

It was going to be a long night...


	3. Chapter 3

When in the Russia Household, there are many dangerous tasks that are to be played. If one does not succeed in winning these games, then not only will they die, but they will die twice if Russia is still around and hadn't killed them the first time.

Activity 3: Tag, but you don't want to be caught by IT because if you do, you die.

The whole house was dimly lit, but was a buzz of activity. But it wasn't the kind of activity that one would enjoy getting involved with. There was one person who was hyperventilating in a barricaded room, and three people running around. They were running to keep away "IT" away from the quivering behind the door.

"Sasha!" Hissed the quivering man from behind the barricaded door.

Kaliningrad stood outside the door with his crowbar ready. "Da, Vanya?" He replied in a flat tone. His eyes were shifting side to side, keeping on high alert from what doomed them all.

"W-Where is she?" Quivered Russia's voice. This was the only situation Russia would act like this. Any other intruder would have Russia wanting first hit at them. But... Russia feared this intruder more than anything else in this world. More than death... More than General Winter... More than never seeing the sun... This was much scarier than that.

"Not sure... But she's somewhere in the house." Kaliningrad replied.

_Bang Bang Bang_

"Tiksi is after her." Kaliningrad informed. "She's holding her off!"

"Then go finish the job, fool!" Hissed Russia from behind the door. Kaliningrad was used to insults at times like these. Russia was a as good as drunk when it came to attitude in such a situation.

"Yes, brother." Kaliningrad said sternly and dashed down the hall to where the shooting was coming from.

_Bang Bang Bang_

"How can she not be dead?!" Kaliningrad hissed to himself as his crowbar slipped out of his sleeve and into his gloved hand. The shooting had stopped but there were loud screeches ringing from around the corner. It was like a banshee's wail.

Kaliningrad turned the corner and gave a loud whistle. The two fighting women stopped instantly and gave their full attention to Kaliningrad.

She had a blood-thirsty look in her eye. Her dress was tattered from marching through the snow and through forests. The knife in her hand still had bits of dried blood on it. She was holding it to Tiksi's neck when Kaliningrad had intervened.

Her bloody eyes narrowed at Kaliningrad and pushed Tiski away. She came at him with her knife held high. The dim light still reflected the image of his emotionless face.

"Where is he?!" That young harpy hissed furiously as she tried to slice and stab Kaliningrad.

Kaliningrad easily dodged these attacks. He suddenly snapped his crowbar up to his the crazed women in the jaw. He swung his leg and hit her into the wall.

"For the last time, Belarus." He crouched down next to his fallen, big sister. "Ivan's not planning on marrying you, so get over it."

The women groaned but could not find the strength to rebuttal or lift her knife again. She simply lay there in defeat.

Kaliningrad picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. "I'll take her home, Anzhela." He assured Tiski.

Tiksi sighed and smiled lightly. Moscow came running out and clung to her Uncle's side. She buried her little face into his fur coat.

"Uncle Kalin won!" She cheered. "He took out IT this time!"

Kaliningrad chuckled. "Hopefully we won't play tag again for the next while." He commented. "I don't think your Father can take another round so soon."

And with that, Moscow let go to allow Kaliningrad to carry off Belarus. He just prayed she didn't pop awake in his arms like she had done before.

How the Russia family plays tag, it is far different from your regular elementary school recess pass time. Their way, like any other thing they do, is usually life threatening. But, the rules of tag are rather backwards. There is only one IT, and they cannot pass it on to anyone else. The players who are not IT, hunt down IT and knock her out. The first one to succeed wins.

SIDENOTES:

Vanya is a common nickname for Ivan.

Kaliningrad's first name is Alexandr and it's common nickname is Sasha.

Tiski's first name is Anzhela.

And just so you know, Moscow's first name is Tommarra ((Prenounced: tuh-mare-uh))


	4. Chapter 4

When in the Russia household, it is important to have good family time that is non- life threatening. Watching films is always a fun, non-deadly activity. Of course, that depends on the movie. Every movie provokes a reaction from someone in the Russian family. This reaction can be either positive, negative, violent, or tear-jerking.

Activity 4: Disney Movies, no matter how childish they seem, can still make Kalin cry.

Kaliningrad walked into the large family room with Moscow clinging to his back. Tiksi walked in after them. Already in the room were Russia and his sister, Siberia. The two were sitting on the couch with a large bowl of popcorn in front of them on a coffee table. Along with the popcorn were a few bottles of vodka. Clearly two per person.

Kaliningrad took a seat and Moscow hopped off his back to sit in between him and Russia. Tiksi sat on the other side of Kaliningrad.

"Nice to see you, Annika." Kaliningrad said softly to his sister that he didn't see very often. The two lived rather far apart. And Siberia was usually out dog sledding or reindeer sledding. She did have a very cold part of the home. She and Tiski were always jealous of Kaliningrad's warmer part of the home. His land was the warmest thing the Russians had.

Siberia's long, blonde-silver hair rained straight down her back. Her bangs brushed over her light purple eyes. Her skin was as pale as the snow that she lived in. She still wore a black coat with fur tuff at the end of each sleeve, around her color, and on the bottom rim of her coat.

"Alexandr." She greeted back and gave a nod before looking back at the blue screen.

"What are we watching?" Tiksi asked curiously and tilted her head slightly as she looked up at Russia and Kaliningrad.

"Moscow picked it out." Russia stated and nodded at the little one next to him with a smile.

"The Lion King!" The girl perked happily. "Sure, America is a capitalist pig, but the Disney Corporation made good movies before Disney Channel was introduced." She explained cheerfully

The four others nodded. Russia picked up one of the remotes and the screen flicked on to show the colourful pictures.

Kaliningrad sipped his vodka and watched the childish movie. He couldn't help but give his classic crooked grin at the corny songs. But the one seen made his eyes widen and sting with tears.

Simba crawled to the corpse of his dead father. He cried out in sorrow and agony as he tried not to believe that his father was dead.

"Dad! Dad!" The animated lion cub cried out, the voice choked back with tears. "Get up, Dad! We have to go home!"

_"__Axel! Axel! Wake up! Axel, please! We have to go home!"_

_"He's dead, Gilbert... There's nothing more we can do... We need to sell him to Soviet Union."_

_"YOU BASTARD! You can't sell him to that monster! He's our brother, damn it West!"_

Kaliningrad stood up and walked out of the room. He was silent and didn't care to excuse himself like he always does.

"Uncle Kalin?" Moscow called in a worried tone. "Uncle Kalin, are you alright?"

A tear slid down Kaliningrad's cheek. "I'm just... tired..." Kaliningrad whispered, his voice did not hint that he was crying.

"Oh... Alright then..." Moscow said sadly.

His family said their goodnights and went back to watching the rest of the movie.

Kaliningrad headed silently back to his room. He trailed his hand lightly on the wall as he walked. He had such a history... A history that he had forgotten and had to be reminded of... By Prussia... His true older brother.


	5. Chapter 5

When in the Russia household, everyone has their pasts. Some are less blood-filled then others. But all of them... All of them have one thing in common: War related tragedy. Kaliningrad is the most touchy on the subject for he didn't know his own history until someone had told it to him. And it was not his brother, Russia.

Kaliningrad's Bloody Past: Part 1

~* Kaliningrad's Point of View *~

My head was in a daze. I felt like I didn't have a body before I felt the crushing weight of gravity as voices slipped into my head. I didn't know these voices. But there were two voices I did remember... but not no other. I didn't even remember my _own _voice. The last thing I remembered was hearing those two voices shout. But I didn't know what they were saying or what they really sounded like. It was murmuring blurs in my spinning head.

I felt light press against my closed eyelids. My body felt heavy, like gravity was attempting to pull me into the earth. But I wasn't on the ground... I was on a bed. It wasn't very comfortable, but it still relaxed me. I heard a ringing in my ears. But I soon realized it wasn't a ringing. It was a steady beep.

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

It was an irritating noise. I groaned and shook my head, trying to shake the noise out of my ears. But over the beeping, I heard the murmuring voices more clearly.

"He moved!" Exclaimed the voice of a child. It must have been a little girl. The voice was excited and shrill.

"Da, I know." Came another voice. It sounded childish, but still deep and terrifying.

"I can't believe he's alive..." Came a much softer voice. It sounded relieved, but at the same time completely terrified. "His wounds were terrible... Even with my medical abilities I thought it was only a matter of time before he flat lined."

"But he's alive now, da?" Came the second voice again.

"Yatta!" Squealed the first voice happily. The sound stung my ears. "We have a new member to the family!"

What? What were they talking about? What family? Where was I?! ... Who was I...? Was I supposed to be here? Am I at a place I should know as home? It was all so confusing. I couldn't remember anything accept those muffled voices...

"Wake up." The second voice commanded, sounding far more stern now. "I know you can hear me."

I managed to flutter my heavy eyelids open. The bright fluorescent lights burned my eyes. I didn't like seeing it. I groaned and shook my head slowly. My blurry vision was beginning to clear. My eyelids fluttered again and I could see clearly.

Three people were looking over me. One had green eyes, shaggy brown hair, and a concerned look. He seemed frightful, so I knew he was the third voice.

Then there was a child. She was small and very innocent looking. Her large violet eyes stared down at me with interest. She had pale skin and light blonde hair that framed her tiny face and trailed a bit down her back. A tint white hat covered the top of her head.

But the person who's back she was clinging to... He was a man of high stature, that was for certain. His eyes were deep purple and burned with a past of bloodshed. He had light blonde hair that I thought was white for a few moments and it also framed his face. The girl and the man had to be related. The only oddball out of the three was the kinder-looking brown haired man.

My throat stung like a man's who had never before tasted water. I gave what sounded like a gargled choke. It sounded so foreign to me... It's like I've never spoken. Like a newborn child who could only cry strangely.

The brown haired man instantly spun around and lifted a cup of water to me. He put the end of the glass to my lips and tilted it so that it would poor into my mouth. On instinct, I remembered to swallow. I felt nothing but relief when the water had moistened my desert-dry throat.

I wanted to say something. Words were jumbling around in my head. I wanted to thank the man for the water, I wanted to ask who they were, where was I, and most importantly: Who was I? The only thing I could actually manage to choke out was: "What...?" My voice sounded alien to me. I never heard it before.

"I know this is all very confusing to you." The large man explained. "But rest assured, you are well off where you are." A strange smile infected his face. I wanted to run away right then and there, but I couldn't feel my legs.

"Perhaps Toris should explain what happened to him?" The little girl asked the scary man. She didn't at all seem afraid of him. The brown haired man, who I assumed to be this "Toris", seemed even more terrified than I was.

The large man nodded at Toris. "Da, go ahead." He said to him.

Toris nodded nervously and looked at me again. In his eyes, all I could see was: "God, save me!" But that's not what he spoke. Instead he said: "You've been in a coma for three years."

WHAT?! A COMA?! How?! When?! Why?! Who?! I wanted to know all of this but my alien voice would not toot a single noise.

"You were seriously injured when we had found you. I managed to heal your burns, but I still wasn't sure you'd ever recover from your comatose state." He smiled at me. "But I'm glad you're awake and fully alive."

"Da." Intervened the older man. He leaned his face closer to my ear. "I know this is all very confusing." He whispered quietly. "But if you try to run away, I will kill you."

That made me feel better, I thought with sarcasm. I'm surprised I even knew what the devil sarcasm was. But this man I knew I wouldn't cross. The way he spoke to me was stern and commanding. He was already trying to strike fear into my heart. And he was all too easily succeeding.

"Who...?" My alien voice managed to choke out again. Every time I spoke it felt like something was constricting my mind.

The little girl giggled. "Silly~" She said in a cute way. "We forgot to introduce ourselves!" She looked down at my happily. "I'm Tommarra Braginski! Also known as Capital: Moscow." She explained. She pressed her little hand on the large man's face. "This is my papa, Ivan Braginski. He's also known as Russia!"

The large man nodded his head. He then looked at Toris. The brown haired man gave a tensed shuttered and looked down.

"My name is Toris Lorinatis." He greeted quietly. "But you can call me Lithuania if you want..."

Alright, since I couldn't remember anything other than the past conversation and those strange voices in the back of my head, I'm sure I'd be able to remember their names.

"Then..." I whispered. "... Who... am I...?" I looked up at the tallest man. He seemed to be the ringleader. It seemed a more appropriate person to direct the question to. By the look in his eye, he knew something about me.

A strange yet soft smile slipped onto his face as he stared at me. His purple eyes softened. I knew what he was thinking. "Got you."

"Your province name is Kaliningrad." He stated flatly. "Your human name is to be Alexandr Braginski." He then gave a strange, light chuckle. "Welcome to Soviet Union."


	6. Chapter 6

When in the Russia Household, bringing up the times of Soviet Union and Russia's far more aggressive years is not a good thing. Russia's violent history could resurface into rage and aggression. The same goes for Kaliningrad.

Kaliningrad's Bloody Past: Part 2

~*Kaliningrad's Point of View*~

It had been about two years since I woke from the coma. I had met everyone in the household. And there was a whole lot of them. The countries that were there were the three Baltic states, Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia (I felt sorry for little Latvia, always being picked on by Russia). Then there was Russia's two sisters: Belarus (who also scared the living shit out of me), and Ukraine (who I thought was very nice, but too much of a wimp). There were also the Stan countries: Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan. Then there were the three oddballs, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. Russia himself was the most feared. Clearly because he was the one who "collected" all of these other nations. And, of course, he had his original land, Siberia, Tiksi (who spent a lot of time with Belarus for some reason), and Little Moscow who was either with Ukraine or on Russia's shoulder. A big "family" indeed.

Russia and I had been very close. He taught me everything I needed to know. He taught me how to fight, different ways to kill (with how much pain or be painless), how to speak Russian. I was a true prodigy in his eyes, as he had once told me. I was his right hand man when it came to anything. But still... So many secrets he still hid from me. He was probably hiding things from himself as well.

But it was the day of truth, something Russia had been looking forward to since the plan was created. The rise of the Berlin Wall. This meant one thing to Russia: Eastern Germany was his. He had been wanting German land ever since he started fighting them. He wanted as much warm land as he could grasp. The southern Stan nations and myself were not enough to satisfy him.

Russia and I headed to Berlin, Germany. We needed to pick something, or rather _someone _up. I kept asking Russia who it was, but he never told me. He simply said: "Keep a close eye on him. But don't get attached."

What the hell were we picking up, a puppy?! I was stronger than Russia thought. But he never gave me the chance to show him up. More importantly, I didn't want to. I had seen his true wrath, and I protected the rest of the house from him. I was the youngest and wanted to prove myself useful to the rest of the family. The Baltic countries feared me as much as they did Russia. Even when I protected them, they quivered as if they figured I saved them so I could beat on them myself. I was no monster.

When we arrived in Berlin, everything seemed to familiar. It was like I had been here before many times... The only thing that I didn't find familiar was the giant wall that cut off half the city. There were regular Germans who glared at it and cursed the allies for building it. But there was one man... one man who looked like he was clawing at it... Like he was desperate to get it down, even if he had to do it himself.

"West! West! Ludwig!" He cried out in desperation. He punched his hand hard against the wall and I swore I could hear a crack from even where I stood. He fell to his knees and pressed his head against the stone wall. "Brother... Don't leave me..." He could hear him still. His voice was so familiar it killed me not to be able to name it. It was like a strange and strong sense of Déjà vu.

"Keep your head gear on." Russia commanded and we walked towards the sad man. I always walked a few feet behind him. I pulled my head gear on, goggles, my scarf over my mouth, and a Soviet helmet. If the man did anything to harm Russia, I was to shoot. But I was pretty damn certain that Russia could easily take out his "magic water stick" and beat his attacker do death with a smile on his face.

We stood only a few feet away from the man. He was crying out in desperation and continued to weakly pound his left fist against the wall. His face was down and his head was pressed against the stone. He looked so pathetic.

"Gilbert Weillschmidt." Russia said in a commanding voice. The name kept bothering me. I was certain I heard it before!

But when the man turned... His face just instantly shot a memory I never had before. His silver hair that was always parked to the side. His burning crimson eyes that had centuries of history. And his pale skin... it looked paper-thin. Around his neck hung an iron cross. I've seen Nazis wear them... but something about the one he wore didn't remind me of a Nazi's.

He scoffed when he saw us and regained a regular man's posture. He glared at us harshly. That's when I noticed the little yellow puff on his head that I figured was some sort of bird. All I was certain of was that it was staring right at me. It looked... curious. Like it had known me from somewhere.

"Come along now." Russia commanded. He turned his back to Gilbert and started walking back to the truck.

"Whatever." Scoffed Gilbert as he followed. I followed behind him with my gun tight in my hands. The bird on his head turned and looked at me again. It started chirping madly. "Quiet, Gilbird!" Hissed Gilbert. The three of us loaded onto the trucks.

The entire ride I had with the three, my eyes were on Gilbert. He was staring down at his feet. The bird on his head kept staring at me, like it was contemplating if it knew me or not. I was also trying to contemplate the same thing about Gilbert. His voice and face were all so familiar... I just couldn't name it!

It was a few hour drive to get home. When we arrived, I had to force Gilbert out of the truck and inside the house. I remembered Russia's orders. "Keep an eye on him, but don't get attached."

Why would I get attached to someone like Gilbert? When he wasn't silent on the truck, he was grumbling about Italy, and how it was warm there and he was going to be stuck in the freezing cold. He'd better get used to it like the rest of us did. But I wondered why he seemed to already know Russia all too well. It was like they had met before in the past.

When we were inside, I was to escort him to one of the many empty rooms. There were plenty. But Gilbert's room was right next to mine. As we walked, Gilbert seemed to be talking to his bird again. It had rapidly began chirping again.

"Shut up, Gilbird!" He hissed again. "I don't care what you think, it's not him!"

Who were they talking about? Me? How the hell could he have a conversation with a bird anyway? I was starting to get paranoid. I stopped at the door that lead to his room. I stared at him harshly through my dark goggles that I still wore.

He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow before bluntly asking: "Do you ever speak?"

My eyes narrowed at his disrespect. "I can talk, I just don't talk to idiots the likes of you." I said harshly through my scarf.

His eyes widened slightly. It was like he was remembering something shocking.

"Take off your headgear!" He commanded, pointing at me.

I don't know why, but I ended up taking it off. I removed my helmet last and shook loose my brown hair.

The bird started chirping madly again. Gilbert slowly raised a shaking hand. His eyes were wide with surprise and looked as if he might end up crying soon. He stumbled a step forward, toward me.

"You're... alive..." He whispered. He took another stumble towards me. "I thought you were dead... All these years I thought you were dead...!" He suddenly embraced me tightly. "Königsberg! Axel!" He shouted in rejoice. "I thought I was never going to see you again, little brother!"

_Brother?! _Did he just call me that? Who was this man?

I pushed him away instinctivly and put the end of my rifle to his chest. I glared harshly at him.

"What the hell are you talking about! I don't know you! And you are surely not my brother!" I spat at him viciously.

He blinked in confusion. "Axel..." I heard him whisper. He then burst out laughing. "Oh, I get it!" He chuckled. "Playing dumb right?" he laughed out loud again. "My complete awesomeness rubbed off on you, and you still kept it after all these years!"

"I DON'T KNOW YOU!" I finally screamed out and jabbed him in the chest with the rifle's barrel. The force pushed him on his back.

"Axel... This isn't like you..." He muttered. He then glared at me and stood back up. "What the hell are you talking about, '_You don't know me_'?! I raised you since you were a child!"

At that moment. My entire world turned upside down.


	7. Chapter 7

When in the Russia household, it is wiser to keep comments about scars to yourself. In any house, scars are reminders of dangers that are best to be avoided, but can be brought up as a joke when time is given. In the Russia house, scars are a reminder of all types of abuse: verbal, physical, and even sexual. All the time in the world couldn't make them humorous memories unless you are a sick, masochistic psychopath with no soul.

Kaliningrad's Bloody Past: Part 3

~*Kaliningrad's Point of View*~

It's strange, really. You've only known your life for two years when you've been around for far longer. It's even stranger when you find out you have relatives from your forgotten past who thought you've been dead for the past years.

Prussia explained to me who I actually was. It didn't make sense to me. But every story he told of me, painful flashes of memories I never had blurred my vision. I couldn't stand much more of it. I didn't know what to believe.

I held my aching head and turned my back to Prussia with a stern: "Stop it!" I needed to silence to clear my head.

Prussia, however, didn't seem to want to keep that for very long. About three seconds later, he started talking to me again.

"Axel, what happened to you over these last five years?" he asked in a harsh, concerned tone. "You're acting like that evil douche bag, Ivan."

And, that's when I snapped at him again.

"You shut your mouth before I break your jaw!" I snapped at him, my crowbar slipped out of my sleeve and into my hand. I pushed one end of it to his chin. "Ivan is my brother, and he's been good to me for these past two years! Don't you DARE say anything wrong about him or I'll make sure you are not to speak a word again!"

"Past two years...?" Prussia seemed to have an epiphany at that moment. "You were in a coma!" He stated and pointed at me again (which I rather disliked). "You must of had amnesia! No wonder you can't remember!"

Amnesia... That would make sense, considering all that I've been through and these sudden painful movies that flashed into my head.

Prussia started pacing now, contemplating ideas. "The explosion... You were being burned for three whole days... You never woke up when we found you..." He muttered under his breath. "Russia... It took him three years to rebuild your land... the time that you were in a coma!" He smacked his fist into his other hand as he just solved the puzzle I had no idea existed. "That's it! He REBUILT you! It all makes sense!"

I felt a chill run down my spine. Every muscle in my body tensed as I could feel the cold, violet eyes of Russia glaring at Prussia and I from around the corner. But I could tell his eyes were more focused on me.

It's been a few years since Prussia had joined us in the Soviet Union. In these years, Prussia told me more about myself from the past that all seemed clear now.

My actual human name: Axel Jäger. The land name Prussia had given me: Twānksta. The name that Prussia and Germany had renamed me with: Königsberg. Prussia was the one who found me at first. I was his eastern half. When he had been formed to be known as the Kingdom of Prussia was when he had found me. I was a historic landmark to him. When I was Königsberg, during the last world war, England had dropped bombs on me. My land and I was being burned for three days. When the fire was extinguished, I was nearly dead. Germany and Prussia were too poor and weakened to keep me, so they had to sell me to Russia. It all made sense.

I relized something when I spoke to Prussia about my past... Russia had known all of this... He had known it the whole time and he never cared to tell me! What, did he think I'd try to run away? Run away and try to rejoin with Germany? How shallow did he think I was?! I wouldn't abandon the person who had healed me after being destroyed! I owed him my life! ... But he had still been hiding everything from me.

Prussia and I had been growing close to eachother. We were now the best of friends. Unfortunatly, to protect him and myself, we needed to keep our friendship a secret from Russia and his daughters. Though Tiksi and Moscow trusted me alot, they would not haste to rat me out to their father.

More years came and passed. And today was Prussia's promised day. August 23rd, 1989.

The fall of the Berlin Wall. He would be freed and returned to his brother.

In these years, Soviet Union was weakening. Not only were more talks of liberation being called forth, but also Russia completely crumbling under the pressure. Prussia's freedom seemed to boist the excitment of the countries' thirst for independance. I, however, did not want this to happen. I didn't want Prussia to leave. I... I didn't know what I would do without him after so many years with him.

But I knew what was best for him. He was better off away from the pain of Soviet Union and to the haven that was his true home. Part of me wished to return with him. The other part of me knew I would need to stay here with Russia. I was the only thing left that was keeping him from killing everyone in the house.

Russia and I attended the fairwell. Prussia insisted that I simply accompany him alone, but Russia would not allow it.

When we arrived in Berlin, the German people gathered around the wall. They all chattered loudly in excitment as they waited for the signal to beat the wall to rubble and reunite their nation. Preachers shouted to the people from high posts to rejoice this day that will forever be remembered in the world's history.

Prussia shuffled through the crowd and Russia and I closely followed behind. We moved to the front of the line infront of the stone wall. A man handed Prussia a sludgehammer and the two grinned at eachother.

I heard the preachers shout out something in their language that sounded like: "Now!"

In that moment, they men at the front of the mob started beating down the wall with their hammers. On the other side of the wall, people were doing the same. Bricks crumbled down in dust and chunks. It was a serious amount of work, but these Germans were determained.

When I looked at Prussia, I saw small tears of joy in the corners of his eyes. He was finally to be reuntied with his brother again. Out of all the people who were beating the wall down, he looked the most passionite about his mission.

When a large breach was broken, some people from both sides crossed to meet. Prussia threw his hammer to the ground and embrassed a man about the same height as him with slicked back blonde hair.

I couldn't hear what they were saying over the cheering and shouting. I looked over at Russia. He looked terrified. Absolutly horrified by the people. He took a shaking step back and retreated out of the crowd. I knew why he was scared.

I was about to go after him when I felt something fluffy land in my hair. I knew it was Gilbird. I turned around to see Prussia and the man who he had embraced walking over to me.

"Axel- er, I mean Alexandr," Prussia corrected himself with my name. "I know you don't remember him, but perhaps it will jog your memory, eh?" He grinned.

The blonde stared at me with the same shocked expression that Prussia had given me the first time he saw me without my head gear on.

"After all these years... He's been alive this whole time..." He muttered in disbleif. His eyes suddenly narrowed at my face.

"What's up, West?" Prussia questioned.

"Did you not notice, Gilbert?" The man I remembered as _Germany _or _Ludwig _spoke harshly. "Axel's face is covered in light scars, rather than burns."

These two had to know me better than I even knew myself. They could read me like a book, and I didn't even put on any emotion. But Germany had just figured out my dark secret and I was only talking to him for a few minutes.

"He's been beating you dead, hasn't he?" Germany asked harshly and crossed his arms over his chest. He sighed. "I regreated every second giving you up to that beast."

I was getting pissed off again. The German brothers didn't seem to relize my actual thoughts on the subject. If I was scared of Russia like the rest because he beat me when he was drunk, I'd be shaking like little Latvia.

"He's not a beast..." I growled.

"He's been beating you since he got a hold of you, hasn't he?!" Germany demanded. "Axel, we can get you out of there. You can be with us again, your real family."

"Russia IS my family!" I hissed back hatefully. I glared harshly at him, fumming. I attempted to calm myself down by taking a few moments. I closed my eyes and gave a heafty sigh. "I appreciate your offer." I spoke a bit through my tightened jaw. "But I can not afford to abandon Russia now. If I did, then more people than you can count will die."

I turned my back to them. Russia was mad enough at me, and I doubt my staying in the crowd for so long would cheer him up very much.

I heard Germany sigh from behind me. "I understand." He said flatly. "If you refuse our offer, than that is fine. But I would appreciate if you would at least come back to visit when possible."

I felt someone's hand clutch my sleeve. I knew it was Prussia. His hand was tight around my wrist, like a parent refusing to let their child off into the world. I understood why this was more painful to Prussia then just that. He had given me up once, and now he had to just stand there and watch me walk away to a place where he saw great pain inflicted on me. I was suprised he didn't break my legs to stop me from walking away.

"I'm not losing you again!" He stated harshly and tugged at my arm. His voice sounded choked by tears as well as desperate. "Stay! We can make up for lost time here! Don't leave!"

I felt pity for him. An emmence amount of it. I would like to stay, but I knew my place. "I'm sorry." Was all I could say to him before my arm slipped out of his grip and I vanished into the cheering crowd.

It was an akward trip home back to Soviet Union. I sat in the back of the truck with Russia. He stared out at the senery with an emotionless face. I couldn't tell what he was thinking about, but I knew one thing for sure.

I was not going to enjoy my time back at the house.

"Get up, Sasha!" I heard his slurred, furious tone shout at me as he brought his heel down on my gut.

I splur of blood spat out from my lips as I felt my bones fracture on impact. I coughed up more blood and rolled to my side.

He had been drinking the second we got inside the house. And when his mind was clouded enough from the obsessive intake of vodka, he had dragged me outside by my neck and started beating me.

I lifted my brittle arm and attempted to drag myself to safety. But that was more useless than any decision. There was no where safe for me to go.

"Get up and fight back, Sasha!" He spat at me and I felt his foot smack against my face, pushing me over on my stomach.

I gasped for air and coughed up more blood. I could hear him take another swig of vodka from the bottle he held. I heard him shake a hollow bottle, clearly he was out of his _water_.

In a sudden flash, I felt something cold crash down on my back. I groaned in agony as the bottle shattered against my back. Shards cut the exposed flesh of my face and neck.

Something then hooked around my neck and pulled me up. I winced as I fought my blurring vision to look at my _brother _who was holding me up by his faucet pipe. The handle on the tap was pressing against my Adam's Apple and making it harder for me to breath than before.

"You want to be with those idiot Germans, don't you...?" He asked in his slurred tone. I was certain that his vision was nearly as blurred as mine. "You want to be a part of them instead of being a part of me..." His voice trailed off. I could see him raise is other arm and in his hand he held the top of the broken vodka bottle.

_Thu-thump thu-thump thu-thump _The sound of my racing heart against my fractured ribs. Every beat pained me, but built up adrenaline. I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared for the next hit.

A sharp edge of glass ripped across my cheek, digging into the muscles of my face. I wanted to scream out, but my jaw felt locked.

The faucet around my neck jerked me back and threw me into the snow. Blood spilled from my body from all different wounds and turned the once white snow around me red.

I coughed a bit more blood and I could sense him step over me. He pushed me onto my back and stared at me with dead, uncaring eyes.

"You sicken me..." I heard him mutter, sounding more sober, though the ringing in my ears may have caused that.

He smacked me once more in the back with his faucet pipe and then stumbled away, back into the house. He left me there to bleed to my death. But I wasn't going to die so easily.

I coughed and wheezed as I dragged myself into the house. I made sure Russia was far gone, back in his room by now. I used the wall to balance as I limped my way to my room.

Every movement hurt me. The rising in my chest as I tried to breath felt like stabs to my lungs. My heart seemed to fracture my ribs even more with every painful beat. The ringing in my ears was intense and deafening. My blurred vision made it near impossible to walk in a straight line.

I made it back to my room though. I knew exactly what I needed to find and where to find it. I stumbled to my nightstand drawer and took bandages and disinfectants and started applying them to my arms. I removed my blood stained coat and shirt and applied it to the rest of my body.

It took about an hours time to finish. I tightened the last bandage with my mouth and tied it off. I gave a heafty sigh before looking down to my left.

There was a little photograph there with, what looked to be, a Nazi's Iron Cross. But it didn't exactly look like the Nazi's...

I picked up the picture and cross. I stared at the old photo. It had to be from the 1930s because of the color of it. The bottom left corner of it was scortched black (From the fire, I presumed). In the photo there were three people standing on the plane-like hills. The person on the right was Prussia, wearing his uniform, cross around his neck and all. He had a happy, truthful grin on his face. On the left was Germany. He also wore his uniform, his hair was slicked back like he apparently always did, and the smile on his face seemed forced. In the middle of the two brothers, was a younger looking boy. He wore a tattered old hat that must have been the style of the day. A linen shirt that must have been white was tattered with dirt and looked two large for him. He wore dark pants with suspenders. He looked nearly like Prussia's own son, the same grin, hair, and all.

I knew at that moment it was me, and this was left here by Prussia, thinking he was too awesome to give it to me in person. I couldn't help but smile at the photo and cross (which must have been mine for a long time, considering it looked rusted). These were probably the two objects Germany and Prussia managed to scavenge from the fire.

I chuckled lightly. Though the memories were vague, I still couldn't help feel more connected to my past by these objects. Strange, I know. But still... Nothing in my life was exactly normal.

End of Kaliningrad's Bloody Past

LONG, I KNOW, I'M SORRY!!!! And it took so long... Sorry if it feels rushed, I wanted to keep his story as a trilogy chapter and nothing more. Please don't give hate reviews.


	8. A Wild Chita has Appeared!

When in Russia Household, it is discovered that there are perhaps more patrons than one thought. Gain and loss is merely a part of life.

New additions are always welcome. Free will? Free will is for capitalistic pigs!

Kaliningrad was greeted in the morn by the door opening, welcoming the bone-chilling whirlwind, said door slamming shut, and loud arguing. He grumbled as he rose from his small bed. He pulled on his fur coat (to lazy to dawn on proper clothing over his boxers) and entered the hallway.

He met his elder brother in the foyer, holding the arm of a younger boy, who screamed at the top of his lungs.

"LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING FUCKER!" The boy screeched, trying desperately to pull his arm free. But Russia's hold was far stronger than any steel trap.

"Quiet, little one!" Russia hissed under his breath, thinking that Kaliningrad could not hear him, He turned his head and smiled at his little brother. "Privjet, brother!" He chirped, almost seeming oblivious to the struggling child.

Kaliningrad resisted the urge to sigh. "Might I ask, who is that boy who is trying to chew his own arm off like a trapped coyote?" He questioned dryly.

Russia smiled down at the brunette boy who struggled to try and bite the nation's hand past his deep purple scarf. The boy was determined to get free, but Russia had no intentions of such a thing. The boy would be locked in that grip until Russia deemed necessary.

"This is my long lost son, Chita!" Russia said happily. "Say hello, Chita."

The boy, Chita, stopped struggling for a moment to turn deadly violet eyes on Kaliningrad.

"Go fuck yourself." He said coldly.

Kaliningrad raised a brow. "Charmed." He sneered. "I am Kaliningrad, your uncle and trader to the family."

"I don't give a shit who you are, so shut the hell up." Chita growled. The defiance in his eyes was staggering. It could turn Medusa to stone.

Kaliningrad smirked a bit at the boy. He had spunk to spare. But not for long. No one go along in this household disrespecting Russia. It was rule one when subjected to these conditions. One had to be respectful and submissive no matter what.

Russia glared down at his son, a cruel smile on his lips. "Little one~" He said in a sing-song voice. It could only mean trouble. "You will learn to respect your uncle and papa, da?"

Chita rolled his eyes bitterly. "Drop dead, asshole."

Russia's hand lifted into the air, ready to strike down on the boy. Kaliningrad stepped forward and grabbed his brother's wrist before he could strike the boy down.

"Brother, control yourself." He reminded him. "Remember that making friends means controlling your temper and urge for violence."

Russia looked at Kaliningrad coldly. His brother returned it with a fearless gaze. The nation snapped his wrist free and lowered it to his side slowly. He turned his gaze to Fyodor who remained glaring.

"You're right, Sasha..." Russia said softly smiling a bit. "Little Fyodor needs love and attention, humane discipline. So that he can love his papa again."

Chita opened his mouth to give a snark, cruel remark, but Kaliningrad shot him a look that carried a simple message: _Don't say anything if you value your life._

"How about I show him to his room?" Kaliningrad offered.

Russia smiled and nodded. "Da~ That sounds good." He let go of Chita's arm and patted him forward.

The new boy growled and stumbled forward. He kept tense as he marched past Kaliningrad. Kaliningrad merely nodded his head and followed after the boy with little care for his attitude. They walked the long corridors, Fyodor constantly wanting to be two steps ahead. Allow him, Kaliningrad figured, better the boy be in his view than behind him trying to run and hide. There was no place to hide in this place. Only a fool would think otherwise.

Kaliningrad stopped at the room which would suit the boy. He grabbed Fyodor by his scarf, causing him to choke, before opening the door.

"What the fuck, douche?" Chita demanded, rubbing his neck and adjusting his scarf.

Kaliningrad pushed the boy inside. "Welcome to your new room." he stated. "Bed is there, bathroom is three doors down on the left."

Chita surveyed the area with a raised brow. "It's too small." He sneered. "I want a bigger one."

Kaliningrad glared. "Too bad, brat. You get what is given. That is law here."

Chita glared at him coldly, before a smirk grew on his lips. "We'll see about that, asshole." He shoved past his uncle to hurry down the hall.

Kaliningrad watched with curiosity. Who exactly was this boy and how could he have survived the trip with Russia with that attitude? He needed to know.

**_-A Note From the Author-_**

My apologies, dear followers, if you are still alive. This story died off with my role-play group which inspired it. I decided to restart it when I noticed another follower join in yesterday. Now, there are serious changes about to happen. I hope to keep it small blip episodes but there could be some serious plot ahead, so I do warn for a bit of a shonen-ai undertone. Moscow, Tiksi, and Siberia will not be showing up again. Since I lost contact with their creators, I have no inspiration nor diction with them. I apologize gravely for this, but I hope to start this anew.

On a lighter note, meet Fyodor, a friend of mine's oc that I have full love, understanding, and connection with. I was given full permission to feature him in the story, so prepare to have allot of his interaction with Russia and Kaliningrad.


	9. The Look

A life lesson from Chita: If you don't get what you fucking want, guilt them. Whatever advantages you have, use it whenever you can. You'd be damn surprised where it gets you.

The only thing that can make Russia look like an awkward 13-year-old girl.

Chita marched down the hallway with a determined look. He would show that stupid Kaliningrad. He could get whatever he wanted. If not from that bastard, then from his bastard _papa_. Tch, some papa, he thought bitterly. He hated Russia with a burning passion. But the nation was easy to guilt, an advantage that he took full use of.

He found Russia in the kitchen looking through the fridge for something to eat. But, instead of food, he drew out a bottle of premium vodka. Typical...

Chita cleared his throat quietly, composing himself. Slowly, he stride towards his papa.

"Papa...?" He said in a light, whiney voice.

Russia turned to smile at his son. "Da, little one..." His voice trailed as his eyes came in contact with the boy's face.

He was met with the saddest, largest, cutest pair of eyes he had ever seen in all his days. The look was memorizing. As much as he wanted to, he could not look away. Something in his heart felt weighted. Guilt, perhaps? But why...? He had not done anything bad... Scratch that, he did not do anything _that_ bad.

"My room is too small, it makes me claustrophobic." Chita continued to speak in odd, cute-whiney tone. "Can I have a bigger one...?"

Russia's eye twitched slightly. Never in his life he felt trapped. "B-But Fyodor... all the rooms are the same, except for a few that are already occu-" He was cut off by sad, sniffling sound that nearly broke his heart.

"Y-You don't love me... a-as much as them...?" Chita sniffled, large eyes becoming watery.

Russia was in a cold sweat, trying to break eye-contact, but it was drawing, almost trapping. He could not resist the adorableness.

"O-Of course I love you as much as the rest, little one!" Russia tried to argue.

Chita became teary. "Y-You don't love m-me th-the m-m-most...?"

Russia tensed more. Crap, the last position he wanted to be stuck in. He gave a nervous smile, trying to figure a way to get around this question without hurting anyone's feelings. He did not want to lose what little he still had.

Quickly, he changed the topic. "Y-You mentioned wanting a bigger room?" He said awkwardly.

Chita kept the look. "Yes..." He said lightly, an odd hope in his eyes.

"Done!" Russia agreed quickly. "W-Whatever it takes to make you happy, little one. B-Because papa loves you much, da?"

Chita gave a smile, the look fading "Thanks." He said, but did not sound like he meant it.

"L-Let me get it ready." Russia excused himself and quickly moved out of the kitchen, disappearing around the corridor.

Chita smirked and moved casually out of the room after allowing Russia a head start. He strode down the hall confidently, his chin lifted in a show of superiority and arrogance.

He passed Kaliningrad he gave the boy an odd look. He stopped and placed his hands on his hips. turning his head to look at his uncle.

"And that's how it's done, dickwad." He sneered before continuing down the hall to observe his new quarters.

Kaliningrad continued to hold his brow up as his nephew passed on. This boy was incredibly untrustworthy. He was deceitful, arrogant, and disrespectful. A boy like him was easy pickings in this house. All kinds of creatures stalked out from the dark to take a chunk until there would be nothing left.

Kaliningrad had allot of work ahead of him to protect Fyodor. It would prove more challenging than any other before him. But despite it, he would do the same duty as he had been for his years in this hell-home; protect the residents within from the side of Russia not the most damned of people deserved to see.

_**-A Note From the Author-**_

My apologies for the shortness of this episode, it really is painful to see them decrease in size again.


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